


Our Gentle Sun

by pulvisastrorum (orphan_account)



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, ジョジョの奇妙な冒険 | JoJo no Kimyou na Bouken | JoJo's Bizarre Adventure
Genre: Chantry Brother Giorno, Dragon Age AU, Fugio Week 2020, M/M, Mage Fugo, Post-Dragon Age: Origins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 15:46:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22169608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/pulvisastrorum
Summary: A young mage in the rebuilt Ferelden Circle meets a Chantry Brother in the chapel.
Relationships: Pannacotta Fugo/Giorno Giovanna
Kudos: 11





	Our Gentle Sun

If there was any apprentice the mages of the Ferelden Circle were worried wouldn’t pass their Harrowing, it was Fugo. He was coming of age for it, and Maker knows when a Templar would pluck him from the library for the test. It wasn’t like he had an interest in blood magic, in fact, the idea seemed to disgust him. Placing a demon in him, though, would be disastrous. Just the tiniest suggestion from a creature of Rage and he would succumb: all the mages he studied under knew this. With such potential, it would be a shame to see him with that spiritual lobotomy of the Tranquil brand, selling enchanted wares.

He was never a religious type, until the new Brother came to the chapel. 

The Brother hailed from Orlais, on a mission to find his true path to serve the Maker. To all around him, he seemed enthusiastic about this cause, memorizing the Chant backwards and forwards and praying more than all the others in his previous Chantry. What a good actor he was, able to hide his true desire to destroy the damned structure from within.

More often than not, the library was loud with those studying or practicing with open books, so it was frequently easier for the easily irritated Fugo to study in the chapel. He sat in the pews with a thick tone in his lap, pages marked with threads he pulled from his robes. If he didn’t have ink (resources could be scarce after that whole Blight thing, after all) he would take a needle from his little sewing kit to use his own blood to write. It was hard to convince more suspicious Templars that it was not what it seemed, but the elder mages knew Fugo was just...crafty. 

The Brother knelt before the chapel’s statue as a censer emitted dense incense smoke. Fugo knew the smell, not from religious attendance but from his home before he was sent to the Circle. A stench of missed opportunity. He had a touch of Tevinter blood in him, so his family, while worried for him, was also proud to have a mage. If not for the chaos of the Blight’s aftermath, they would have gone there to raise their son, but of course, it didn’t work out that way. 

Fugo didn’t believe in the Maker, and scarcely could believe how beautiful His faithfuls were, or, at least the one. Brother Giorno had a golden braid which shone like silk under the light from the stained glass windows. His body defied the blocky shape of the Chantry robes. He was young, younger than one would think a Chantry Brother could be, probably a year younger than Fugo. It wasn’t worth it to become attached to the Brother’s beauty, he knew. Desire was the most powerful demon, and those of the Chantry were forbidden from love; they saved their love for the Maker, like Andraste. 

Difficult to keep his mind on the dry text, he glanced over the words while they only grazed his brain. Days of the week devoted to study, eating meals alone, and skipping out on “activities” didn’t make Fugo very lonely. He was fine that way, but just  _ one  _ person his age to talk to would be welcomed. The older mages, especially the Libertarians, tended to just ramble on and lecture him like he was a child. Those his age bored him. Their words meant nothing, they were frivolous. 

“Blessed are they who stand before the corrupt and the wicked and do not falter.” Brother Giorno recited, his head bowed to the shrine closest to Fugo. It was a phrase Fugo knew well. Before being sent to the Circle he would study the Chanter’s board, looking for small errands to do for the wealthy unable to be bothered by mundane tasks. It made him a considerable amount of coin. On a night when his skin was the filthiest it had been and his clothes the most tattered, he returned to the Chanter Thea a handful of Andraste’s Grace that a noble wanted for a flower arrangement. The Chanter placed a sovereign into his cracked palms, wrapping his fingers to clasp it. She spoke the benediction to him and he wept before the Chantry like an enlightened soul. 

“Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just.” They spoke in unison. Fugo shot up in the pew, having uttered the words without realizing. A page of his book fluttered.

“You know the Benediction 4:10 well, ser mage?” The Brother raised his head when he turned to Fugo. “It is rare to see such piety in the Circle. It is sad how many mages believe Andraste would turn their backs on them.” His smile seemed more a smirk. Some light caught on a small earring uncovered by his hair that Fugo hadn’t noticed.

“I...know that verse. Not much else, I’m afraid.” 

“Well, if you seek to know more, I’m sure the library has copies, and I have the New Cumberland Chant.” He leaned down to whisper to Fugo. “Find me here in the evenings, and perhaps I can teach you.”

“Fugo! Reli needs your help finding the book you read yesterday!” An apprentice shouted into the Chapel. Fugo left for the library with flushed cheeks.

**Author's Note:**

> hhhhhh i have had total writers block and this is all i have to show for the past 3 weeks. my depression kicked my ass over winter break so all the work i got done on other fics is like to halfway points. this doesn’t follow a prompt. i’m dying. do what you will with this


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